Who's your Daddy?
by jathycia
Summary: Sarah's parents have died 'of unknown causes' and she resides in an orphanage. That is, until she's adopted by a certain someone. I must warn you that this will develop into a tale of sadism, murder and fetishes that may unnerve some readers.
1. Chapter 1

Who's your Daddy?

Sarah's parents have died 'of unknown causes' and she resides in an orphanage. That is, until she's adopted by a certain someone. I must warn you that this will develop into a tale of sadism, murder and fetishes that may unnerve some readers.

Chapter One

Sarah sat at the desk, drawing. No longer bearing the surname 'Williams', she resided in the town's orphanage. Her room, no bigger than Toby's nursery in their previous home, contained a single chest of drawers for their few belongings, a desk and stool, a large armchair and a single bed. A small window, situated above the headboard, allowed light to filter down onto the adjacent wall, illuminating the many of Sarah's drawings that had been pinned up by her carer, despite Sarah's protests. Amidst the vertical collage was a calendar that Sarah had been using for no other purpose than to count down the days; till when, or what, even she was unsure.

Many months had passed since she and her brother had been orphaned. Sarah had been babysitting her brother when the accident occurred. She heard nothing of it until the next morning, when two policemen and a social worker arrived on her doorstep. They informed her that her parents had died 'of unknown causes'. Apparently, they had been sitting on a park bench after spending the evening dining together, and simply fell asleep. They were found the next morning, in each others' arms, stone cold and lifeless. The news destroyed Sarah. She changed; turned from a bright and outspoken child to a withdrawn and isolated teenager.

She spent her days in the orphanage sitting on her bed, legs tucked under her chin, staring out of the window. When she determined that the light was too bright to look at, she drew. When her hand ached, she slept. This was her routine, and it was evident that she was entirely unable, or unwilling, to change this.

Toby had been adopted in March. It was unusual for a sibling to be separated from another by adoption, but not unheard of. Sarah, though she missed him dearly, had never felt very close to her brother. This may have had something to do with the fact that he was Karen's son. Karen had been Sarah's step-mother; her real mother had died when Sarah reached adolescence. Sarah had inherited her father's height, dark hair and round eyes. Toby was fair-haired, just like his mother. Sarah hadn't really gotten on well with either of them; she was overwhelmed with grief at the thought of being forever unable to mend their relationship.

June 15th.

The squat, auburn-haired woman peered inquisitively over Sarah's shoulder. 'That looks lovely, dear - may I inquire as to what it is?'

Sarah sighed, the hand holding her pencil hovering over the page. 'It's a labyrinth'. A silence ensued; the woman was frowning slightly. Sarah continued:  
'It's basically a huge maze, but made out of more than just hedge, and containing obstacles as well as just twists and turns'.

A longer silence. The woman took in a breath, hesitated, then said:  
'Well, that certainly is lovely, dear. You keep at it'. The woman patted Sarah on the shoulder before turning to join her husband, who was scrutinising the drawings on the wall.

Sarah simply continued with her drawing, having learned not to get her hopes up about prospective foster parents; she had been refused repeatedly since arriving at the orphange and could not see why that would change any time soon. 'Sarah, dear? Not to be a nuisance, but you've drawn that Laberanth -'  
'- Labyrinth' Sarah interjected - 'Yes, Labyrinth, before. You've drawn it before, my dear. See?' The woman tapped the drawing on the wall repeatedly with her forefinger. Sarah didn't turn to look; she clenched her jaw and tightened her grip on the pencil.

'I know that. Is there some law against drawing the same thing twice?'

'Oh, but my dear, you've drawn it more than twice. Several times, actually. Look!' The woman flustered, flailing her arms at a number of Sarah's drawings. Sarah exhaled, before turning on her stool to face the woman.

'I apologise sincerely. Perhaps you'd like to take those drawings down, so you aren't dizzied by their sameness?'

The woman was affronted by Sarah's patronizing tone and said hurriedly 'Oh, no, dear, I'm sure that isn't necessary. My goodness, look at the time! Clive, we'd better get a wriggle on.' And with that, the couple left.  
Sarah heard the clicking of the door as they locked it behind them before turning back to her drawing.

She sat unmoving for quite a while, her mind working through what had just happened. She looked down at the paper in front of her, which depicted an extravagant maze of stone. The faint outline of a castle could be seen in the distance, though the details of the structure were yet to be drawn. As Sarah gazed at her drawing, she couldn't help but reminisce the time she had spent in the Underground.

It had been just under a year since it had happened, and her thoughts had rarely strayed too far from the Labyrinth and its inhabitants. Her lonely days in the orphange were spent daydreaming about the Labyrinth itself, and the friends she'd made there.

By night, however, her mind drifted irrevocably to a particular ruler of a certain sector of the Underground. Sarah couldn't bring herself to consciously address her feelings for the Goblin King, as she was rather uncertain about what they were. But no matter, as he was no longer an issue; she had defeated him. He had stolen Toby from her, and she had endured extremes to retrieve him.

She disregarded her fears that he might seek revenge by reminding herself that he was gone; incapable of reaching her. Though she refused to admit it to herself, she wasn't sure whether she was content with that fact. Sarah became suddenly aware of her thoughts - she picked up her pencil and continued on with her drawing in an attempt to distract her own mind from careening into an abyss of emotion that she would undoubtedly never escape from.

June 18th.

Sarah had woken. She sat up in her bed, yawned, swung her legs round the side of the bed, stood up, and stretched. She walked to the chest of drawers on the other side of the room and changed from her pyjamas into everyday clothing. She turned to sit at her desk to wait for breakfast, but noticed something on her window sill. The window was right above her bedhead, so she clambered back onto the bed and kneeled upright to examine the outside window sill. A single feather rested on the other side of the glass.

Sarah was confused; the only birds she'd ever seen from this window were sparrows and blackbirds, and this feather could belong to neither of them. It was stark white, with slight beige speckles across its middle. It curved upwards in a perfect upturned arch; had it been flat, it would have resembled a tear-drop in its shape. The feather was sheer perfection, and appeared incredibly soft - Sarah longed to touch it.

She examined the window ledge, before noticing a latch on its inner corner. She lifted it, and the window opened outwards at the bottom. There was just enough room for her to slip her fingers through the gap and grasp the tip of the feather, pulling it inside. She closed the window and sat cross-legged on her bed, stroking the feather, in awe of its flawlessness. She wondered what kind of bird it had come from - Sarah couldn't imagine any bird from this part of the country sporting feathers like this.

She sat for a while, simply stroking the feather, her thoughts on nothing in particular. When she heard the lock on the door click open (breakfast had arrived), she took the feather to the chest of drawers and placed it carefully inside the top drawer. She then settled into her everyday routine, convinced that she'd now had her months' worth of excitement. She was wrong.

June 30th.

Sarah was sitting in her usual position in the centre of her bed; legs tucked under her chin, staring intently out of the small window. The leaved branches of a large elm tree could be seen blowing subtley in the wind; it reminded her of the oak outside Toby's old nursery.

Her thoughts were on nothing in particular when she heard the door open. Someone entered the room and closed the door behind them. Sarah considered turning to address the visitor, but was distracted by a sparkle she glimpsed among the branches of the elm tree. She squinted, hoping to identify what it was that twinkled at her from outside. Before she could decide whether she had imagined the brief twinkle, her visitor spoke.  
'I hope I'm not interrupting anything'. Sarah reluctantly dragged her eyes away from the window to face who had spoken. It was a man; his greasy hair slicked back into a ponytail at the base of his head and his face scarred and unshaven. She felt immediately uneasy in his presence, despite his seemingly harmless words.

Several moments passed, and Sarah realised he was expecting an answer. She quickly shook her head in response. 'Excellent', he replied, before baring his gold teeth in what should have been a smile, but wasn't. Sarah shifted her weight nervously.

'So, you're sixteen?' he asked, obviously trying to start a conversation. Sarah nodded. He nodded back, not taking his eyes off hers. A silence ensued that only added to the tense atmosphere in the room. Sarah could do nothing but look back at the man; she was slightly alarmed when he walked over to her bed and sat down next to her. He raised his hand and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, never once breaking eye contact. Sarah was beginning to feel rather disturbed and repulsed by his proximity. She could smell alcohol on his breath and turned away from him.

'What's wrong, sweetheart? Am I making you uncomfortable?' He rested his hand on her leg and smirked. 'You know, I'm sure you and I could have lots of fun together - all I have to do is sign a few contracts. Would you like that Sarah? Because I know I would...'  
His hand began to move slowly up her thigh, and it sickened her. She stood up abruptly and pressed the attendance button on her desk. A social worker opened the door and popped her head in. 'Problem?' she enquired. 'No problem, this man was just leaving', replied Sarah.

The smile had vanished from the man's face as quickly as it had appeared. He looked from Sarah to the woman at the door, then back at Sarah. He sneered at her finally before leaving the room with the social worker.

Sarah's heart was racing; she felt dirty. She subconsciously wrung her hands, and returned to her position on the bed, being careful not to come in contact with the expanse of bedding on which the man had sat.

Sarah then remembered what the man had interrupted - she whipped around to face the window - and gasped. A magnificent barn owl was perched amongst the greenery of the elm, staring intently back at Sarah. This was highly unusual, since it was just past 2 on a June afternoon. Not only are owls nocturnal, but migratory; never before had one been seen this far south at this time of year, let alone in this part of the country.

Sarah realised almost immediately what the sparkle she'd seen had been; the eyes of this creature, twinkling brightly in the afternoon sun. She was unable to take her eyes off the bird as it stared back at her, unmoving. It was a flawless specimen; cream in colour, with a heart-shaped face and speckled feathers. ...feathers? Sarah leapt up from the bed and practically ran to the chest of drawers - she retrieved her feather and returned to her position on the bed.

She instinctively ran her fingers slowly along it's edge, appreciating its incredible softness. Sarah looked up at the owl, still perched on the same branch and sitting at the same angle. She couldn't fathom it, but she felt at ease in its presence; some sort of familiarity settled over her, as if she'd seen the bird before.

Sarah felt as though she should recognise the owl from somewhere, but couldn't put her finger on exactly why she felt this odd sense of conversance. She looked back at her feather, now absolutely certain that her feather belonged to this owl. As she gazed into it's large, kaleidoscope eyes, in awe of it's perfection, she realised that it must have been sitting in the same position all the while she had conversed with the man. She wondered whether it had understood what had happened. Not that that was possible. But the owl's sheer magnificence radiated an intelligence that Sarah couldn't quite comprehend.

She was suddenly made aware that her hands were moving; she looked down to see that she had been absent-mindedly stroking the feather. When she looked back out the window, a pang of sorrow coursed through her body; the owl had gone.

July 26th.

There was a knock on the door. 'Come in,' Sarah called. Sarah had expected to see an anxious couple, anticipating a light-hearted conversation with Sarah to determine whether or not they should adopt her as their own. Instead, the door swung open and the social worker who had saved her almost a month earlier from that foul man entered her room. The woman smiled warmly at Sarah before handing her a letter.

'This came today. It's for you. We've contacted the sender already, and it's all settled - you're to pack your things and be ready to leave by this afternoon.' The woman rested a hand on Sarah's shoulder before smiling and leaving the room.

Sarah stared after her in shock. What had she said? Something about leaving? But they couldn't kick her out - she wasn't eighteen yet! Her seventeenth birthday was fast approaching, but she was nowhere near old enough to be put out on the streets!

Sarah sat, horrified, for several moments before realising she was holding the letter. She quickly turned the envelope over and read 'Sarah Williams, Room 23, Ornithale Town Orphanage, 0314'. She found the text difficult to decipher, as it had been written in an elegant script that she had only ever seen before in text books about ancient scrolls and parchments.

Confused as to who could possibly have sent her such a letter, she proceeded to tear open the envelope. She had no living relatives, and her old school friends were hardly likely to have persuaded their parents to adopt her. She tugged the letter out of the envelope and unfolded it.

The writing on the page was of the same exuberantly loopy lettering as on the envelope, and Sarah noticed immediately that the letter was not nearly as extensive as she might have hoped. In fact, there was little more than two lines. The first word was clear.

'Sarah'.

Sarah was confronted by the blatant utilization of her name - the sender of the letter obviously hadn't seen fit to address her with a 'to' or 'dear'. She dismissed this minor detail and her eyes fell to the centre of the page. A single sentence. Her breath caught in her throat.

'Prepare for confutation.'  
She read the same three words over and over again for several minutes before the message began to sink in. Not that it could - she had no idea what 'confutation' meant. Her mind was racing; what could this possibly mean? And where was she going this afternoon? Most importantly, who had sent this vague yet confrontingly minacious letter?

Sarah's eyes fell to the bottom of the page. Her blood nearly froze in her veins when she saw the elaborate symbol that had been delineated onto the page - a single letter 'J'. *

A million thoughts entered her head at once. She staggered over to the bed and sat down, staring at the symbol which had provoked such a reaction from her. There was no doubt in her mind - it was from him. She was bombarded subconsciously with questions, and pulled herself together long enough to begin contemplating their answers.

She went over the facts in her head. She had received a letter. It had been handed to her by a social worker, so it had been through the post. The post. It was difficult for Sarah to comprehend exactly how he had managed to get this letter to her; he couldn't. He had no power over her. Surely this meant he was incapable of communication, especially since it was between worlds? Sarah was certain there was no sort of postal service operating between the Underground and Overground, so how could he have passed on this letter? She dismissed this nagging thought temporarily and addressed the issue of identifying exactly what was going on. She had been told only minutes earlier that she would be leaving - and the social worker had mentioned something about having 'contacted the sender'. How was this possible? It didn't make any sense - he was Underground - how could they have contacted him? And what did the social worker mean when she said 'everything's settled'? Surely she couldn't have meant...? No, that's not possible, Sarah reassured herself. It must be some sort of misunderstanding on my part - maybe the letter's from my long-lost uncle or something, who's so old he still writes in vintage cursive and uses words no-one uses any more. That must be right. And now he's adopted me. Yes, that must be it.

Struggling to keep her mind off a very implausible explanation of the letter and its sender, Sarah set about packing her few belongings for departure from the orphanage - she wasn't a big fan of surprises, but realised in this case, she'd just have to wait and see.

The lock on the door clicked open, and Sarah picked up her bags, in a sort of daze. She still couldn't quite get her head around the fact that so much had changed within two hours. Her feather had been placed carefully inside the top pocket of her suitcase.

The social worker popped her head round the door. 'Ready to go?' 'Yes, thankyou,' Sarah replied, and headed for the door.

As she stepped through the doorway she realised that she was leaving for good. She still had no idea where she was going, but certainly had a disturbing feeling that she knew exactly who she was being delivered to, even if she didn't know how or why. Despite that nauseating notion, she felt somewhat relieved that this might just mark a new chapter in her life. She turned and glanced round her room once more, before stepping out into the corridor with the social worker.

Sarah had never actually asked the woman her name; she felt now might be a suitable time. As they walked together up the hallway, she said 'You know, you've been delivering me breakfast, lunch and dinner for the past eight months, and I still don't know your name'. The woman smiled. 'It's Lorna. And I'll admit i'm sad to see you go, Sarah. You've been a pleasure to cater for; always one of the quiet ones'. Sarah grinned, but was abruptly silenced by Lorna's use of past tense. She decided to straighten things out. 'So, where exactly are we going? I'm a little confused as to what's going on - could you fill me in on the way?' 'Well, to be completely honest with you Sarah, I know about as much as you do. I was called into the boss's office this morning, only to be told that you had been adopted. I was given the address of the residence I am to drive you to, but when I asked about who owned the place, i was told it's 'strictly confidential'. From personal experience, that basically means that whoever has adopted you wishes to remain anonymous until you meet them in person. Of course, background checks had to be done on this person's credibility, but it seems everything's worked out fine.'

Sarah took a moment to take it all in. Then she noticed something odd.  
'...Hang on - you said 'this person'. Does that mean - only one? Not a couple?'

'No Sarah, you're being adopted by a man; apparently he lives alone, so yes, I'd assume he is only one person.'

Sarah was stunned. She thought her theory about a long-lost uncle had been a little far-fetched - it couldn't be the man who had come so close to molesting her, could it? Surely not, he seemed the kind of person to have a criminal record - the background check would have picked up on this, of course. And he was hardly capable of putting ink to paper in the way the letter depicted; she doubted he knew how to brush his teeth, let alone utilize cursive. Despite this, Sarah's attempts to mentally reassure herself were unsuccessful; her palms began to sweat.

There was only one other explanation, and she couldn't decide whether it was better or worse than the previous one.

'Him'.

She couldn't bring herself to comprehend the series of unfortunate events that would undoubtedly occur should a certain King of a certain realm be responsible for her adoption. Not that he could be. Because he couldn't - she'd already established that was impossible. He didn't exist any more. Well, not for her, anyway - she had severed her connection with him when she spoke those words. He was gone.

By this time, they'd reached the main entrance (or in this case, exit) and headed out into the daylight. Sarah couldn't remember the last time she'd been outside, though she'd imagined it every day whilst staring out her window. They made it to the company car and began their journey to Sarah's new home.

The sun was hovering on the horizon.

Sarah sat next to Lorna in the passenger seat, staring out the window, her thoughts in a tangle. She'd hardly noticed when they'd left town and turned on to an unsealed road. The dirt road had led to a thick, black forest of gnarled and twisted trees whose limbs seemed to reach menacingly towards the vehicle as it passed them. Lorna swore under her breath when she realised she'd taken a wrong turn - Sarah didn't notice.

It had taken almost four hours, but eventually Lorna had come across the stretch of road (more a gravel path) which split into three forks - she'd been told by her superiors to take the left one.

And now they were driving slowly through the undergrowth; headlights on, as the sunlight was fading and casting angular shadows across the ancient flora.

Sarah was in a kind of trance. She was brought back to reality when Lorna broke the silence for the first time since they'd left.

'I think we're here.'

Sarah turned her head to the front; and gasped.

The car had come to a halt in front of an ornate cast-iron gate. Its ridges intersected and spiralled intricately, creating a spectacular gothic pattern which indicated that this was the entrance to a property of magisterial proportions.

The gate had the width of at least three cars; it was wedged between two unnaturally high stone walls that reached almost to the tops of the prehistoric trees surrounding them. The walls were overgrown with ivy and moss, and crowned with a square design, like the walls that were found to surround medieval castles.

Sarah wondered what kind of abode was found so deep inside a forest that there was no evidence of its existence; no road signs, lights - the obnubilated path they had travelled along could hardly warrant the title 'road' either.

More importantly, what kind of person desired residency so far from civilisation?

And what did they want with Sarah?

Both Lorna and Sarah were abruptly startled by the screech of the gates as they suddenly opened (by themselves, it seemed), but their stupefaction intensified when they glimpsed what was hidden behind the tremendous entryway.

The meagre pathway on which they were halted transubstantiated at the point where the gates had been into a flawlessly paved driveway of beige.

The driveway seemed to extend about a hundred metres directly into the heart of the property, and was bordered by a thick tangle of the same black trees found outside the stone walls. The driveway appeared to end at the point where a magnificent fountain was situated. And just beyond the fountain was the main attraction of the chivalric theme park; an enormous and somewhat mystical castle.

Lorna and Sarah closed their mouths simultaneously and exchanged stunned glances. Then Lorna proceeded to drive the vehicle slowly through the minatory entrance and up the driveway.

The duo stood side-by-side, staring up at the monstrous double-doors. They depicted a similar pattern to that on the entrance gates, but were made of some sort of burnished wood.

Sarah had no idea what to make of the situation. It seemed only yesterday (well, it was) when she had been sitting on her bed in the orphanage staring out her window at the oak trees beyond it. And now, here she was, standing outside a castle, preparing to meet the man who'd adopted her without any prior warnings.

It all seemed so surreal. Her life had taken a sharp turn (for the better? Sarah thought it questionable.) in less than thirteen hours, and there was nothing she could do to change it. Soon, she would become the daughter of a stranger; bound by law to remain in his custody until she reaches eighteen years of age. Just over a year, Sarah thought. I can live with that.

Lorna reached out an arm and hesitated before using the odd brass door knocker which resembled the head of a bulldog. The sound it made echoed through the undergrowth surrounding the castle and shocked numerous roosting crows into flight. Their grating caws made both Sarah and Lorna uneasy; they exchanged glances once again before the large wooden doors swung open of their own accord.

The two reluctantly ventured inside and into a large entrance hall. A magnificent staircase of red and gold joined the ground floor with the second, making a 'T' shape as it split and curved round to reach both sides of the upper balcony level.

Sarah looked up; the ceiling seemed miles away. Despite the enormity of the hall, it seemed fairly void of furnishings, as if, despite the castle's prolonged existence, it had only recently become occupied.

Sarah and Lorna looked at one another. Sarah raised her eyebrows as if to question Lorna's next course of action; Lorna shrugged, before calling out '..Hello? ..Is anybody home? ..I'm here to drop Sarah off.' She paused for a reply, but none came. Sarah was still adjusting to the notion that this place may be her new home. Adapting would take some time, but at least it wasn't a dumpy apartment suite.

Lorna turned to Sarah, yawning, obviously tired from her hours of driving. 'Look Sarah, I'm not allowed to leave until I've delivered you to this man, but it's getting late. We might just have to get back in the car and come back tomorrow when someone's home.' Sarah opened her mouth to respond when -

'That won't be necessary.'

The voice was masculine, somewhat gravelly yet sensually melodic. Lorna and Sarah instinctively turned towards the sound, which came from the stairway.

A tall figure stood at the top of the staircase. Though they were too far away to observe details of his appearance, Sarah had recognised the voice instantaneously.

Her mouth fell open and she inhaled sharply.

Her heartbeat increased to a furious pace that pounded in her ears.

Her palms began to sweat and her knees shook beneath her.

Lorna dragged her eyes away from the stationary figure to see Sarah sway dangerously on the spot; she came to her aid, putting her arms under Sarah's for support.

Sarah wasn't thinking straight; her mind was incoherent. She had no clue as to where she was, or why she was there. She had no idea what could possibly come of recent events or whether she had the power to change them. Of only one detail she was certain.

It was him.

* * *

Firstly, I apologise profusely for the change of pace that occurs in this chapter; I don't believe that the ending was too fast - I believe that the beginning was too slow. If you disagree, let me know; I can use your advice to make the next chapter a more enjoyable read.

Secondly, I know this chapter seemed unremittingly boring, but please bare with me - the juicy bits begin in the next part.

And thirdly, please take into consideration that this was my first fanfic; I came back to it after writing 'The Fine Print' - I don't want reviews telling me just how bad this was. Constructive criticism always helps, but words of praise make me feel appreciated :)

And fourthly (or P.S), I decided against naming chapters in this fanfic, because I don't know how long it'll turn out. So please, if you have any plot suggestions, include them in a review and you might just see your idea in the next chapter(s) :)


	2. Chapter 2

Who's your Daddy

Chapter 2

Sarah woke, stretched, sat up, yawned, and blinked a few times before she realised where she was. She leapt from the bed as though she'd been bitten by a perverted goblin, and stared at where she'd been sleeping, horrified. It was then that the events of yesterday dawned on her.

The last thing she remembered was seeing Him at the top of the staircase. She had known it was Him, there was no doubt about it. That stature and that voice could belong to no other. And somehow she'd made it here. Sarah supposed this must be her new room. Not bad. It wasn't a large room, but certainly more generous in proportions than her room at the orphanage had been. The only furnishings were a large trunk at the foot of the bed and a dressing screen.

There were three doors leading from the room - she headed for the one opposite the bed. It opened into a cosy bathroom, complete with a bath, toilet and sink. Sarah acknowledged how odd the porcelain looked against the seemingly ancient stone walls, and wondered whether He had arranged this just for her. An ornate chrome mirror hung above the sink; Sarah noticed her reflection was wearing a simple white nightdress, and froze. It wasn't hers. And she certainly could not recall getting into it herself. Perhaps Lorna had helped to dress her before she left. Yes, that must be it.

Sarah dismissed her worrying thoughts about who had dressed her and tried the second of the three doors; it was locked. She frowned. Apparently He wanted her to stay put.

The third door was a set of double doors that opened onto a magnificent stone balcony. She stepped out into the cold morning air and gasped. Beneath her was a vast domain of lush gardens and lawns. She could even spy what looked like a hedge-maze to her far left, around a castle corner. The high stone wall that bordered the property was hidden behind a line of monstrous trees that must have been growing for centuries. Sarah took it all in, stunned and amazed that she would be living here. Or so she assumed. She couldn't remember speaking with anyone since arriving, and wondered what had happened between last night and this morning. She resolved to ask Him about it, among the many other things she needed to talk with him about.

Sarah had so far managed to concoct a myriad of explanations for His actions, and was at a loss to determine which explanation was the right one. All she knew was that He had adopted her. Why, she had no idea. Perhaps he harboured bitterness for her triumph over his Labyrinth, and planned to seek vengeance by making her life a living hell. That seemed rather an unlikely possibility - what took him so long? Why now? And why bother going to all the effort, why not simply ambush her in the park with an army of rabid goblins? Perhaps he had such a fantastic time tormenting her during her journey through his Labyrinth that he had decided to keep her to himself as a plaything; something he could harass and humiliate for his own entertainment. Sick bastard. Wouldn't be a surprising truth. Or perhaps he was a lonely soul, in want of a companion, someone attainable, and more intelligent than a goblin. If that were the case, she would most certainly be a viable option. Her circumstances made her perfect for the job. She was at that frustrating age between childhood and societal independence, rendering her psychologically mature yet legally incapable of making her own decisions. Being an orphan was a bonus, as she'd hardly be missed by anyone. Sarah concluded that the only way to obtain the answers she needed was to ask him about it. And so she would.

A sudden scrabbling noise startled Sarah out of her reverie. She turned and squinted inside her room to see the doorknob of that locked door rattling, as though someone on the other side were trying to get in. She ventured inside cautiously, mentally preparing herself to confront Him when he entered. Sarah inhaled sharply as the door was flung open, revealing - a breakfast trolley. She sighed, relieved and yet somewhat disappointed. Her disappointment, however, was short-lived as she suddenly realised how hungry she was. Sarah couldn't remember the last time she ate. Her stomach rumbled as the trolley was wheeled into her room; she peered behind it to see a pair of small goblins, bickering over which of them had more of a hold on the trolley.

'Stop shoving me!'

'I'm not shoving, you're on my side!'

'Your side? It's a trolley, there are no sides!'

'Maybe, but it'd be easier if you'd keep to that side!'

'It'd be easier if you'd shut up!'

Sarah was stunned. Seeing goblins anywhere but Underground seemed so unnatural to her that she couldn't bring herself to speak. Come to think of it, she wasn't so sure she was Overground anymore.

'Excuse me?' Sarah interrupted hesitantly. The goblins stopped squabbling and glared up at her.

'What do you want?' demanded the hairier one.

'She wants her food, that's what,' the smaller one replied.

'I wasn't asking you,' said Hairy, elbowing Tiny in the ribs.

'Please!' exclaimed Sarah, 'Stop fighting! I just want to know where we are.'

'What do you mean, 'where we are'?'

'We're in the castle, bog-brain!'

'Yes, I realise that,' said Sarah, 'but are we in the Underground?'

The goblins cackled. 'She must have hit her head when she fainted,' said Tiny to Hairy. Hairy nodded, snorting with laughter.

Sarah wasn't certain she'd heard correctly. 'Wait, what? Sorry, but - I fainted?'

The goblins laughed hysterically. 'She doesn't even remember!' exclaimed Tiny.

'No, I don't, care to explain what happened?' said Sarah, becoming increasingly more agitated and concerned. She'd fainted? God, how embarrassing. That explained why she couldn't remember anything from last night.

'Well,' said Hairy, wiping his eyes, 'last night, right after you arrived, you just - fainted.'

'You didn't come round until you woke up this morning,' said Tiny.

'And what happened to Lorna?' asked Sarah.

'The one who brought you? She left,' said Hairy.

'But not until she knew you were in good hands,' explained Tiny. 'Since you were out cold, she demanded she change your clothes for bed before she left.'

Hairy muttered something in Tiny's ear and they both erupted into fits of giggles. Sarah frowned. 'You still haven't answered my question,' she pointed out. 'Are we in the Underground?'

'Can you see the Labyrinth from here?' asked Hairy, nodding towards the balcony. Sarah turned to look out across the castle grounds. The furthest she could see was a dense forest resting on the horizon. 'Uh - no.'

'Then we're not Underground,' stated Hairy, as though everybody knew that. He turned to Tiny and muttered 'I thought you had to be smart to make it through the Labyrinth.' Tiny giggled.

'If you're going to make fun of me then you can just leave,' said Sarah, exasperated. 'And anyway, you're keeping me from my breakfast.'

'Alright, alright, we're going,' grumbled Hairy. 'We have things to do, anyway.' He grabbed Tiny by the elbow and proceeded to drag him out of the room.

'-Wait! One last thing,' called Sarah. Hairy turned.

'If I was passed out, how did I get up here?'

Hairy grinned toothily.

'He carried you.'

And with that, Hairy and Tiny disappeared through the door before it was slammed shut unceremoniously and locked from the other side.

Sarah was left standing motionless by her breakfast trolley, trying to get her head around Hairy's words. She'd been carried? Unconscious? By Him? The notion stirred her more than it should have. The thought of his hands on her body, despite his seemingly innocent intentions, alarmed her. She wondered what else he might have done while she was unconscious. After many months of being leered at by potential male foster parents, Sarah couldn't help but consider the worst. But even so... was it so wrong? After all, she knew him. Not well, but enough to know that he had a certain charm, a certain - charisma. And from what she could remember of him, he certainly wasn't unattractive. But of course, that didn't excuse non-consensual physical contact. Sarah mentally slapped herself for thinking otherwise.

Amidst all the excitement of the morning, she'd completely forgotten her hunger. She sat on her bed and pulled the trolley close, so to use it as a table. There were bowls of fresh fruits, pastries, poached eggs, mushrooms and what appeared to be bacon, but Sarah was uncertain there were pigs Underground. She could recall, however, seeing a number of chickens during her last visit Underground, and figured they must be the source of the eggs she was about to consume. As she began to make her way through her first full breakfast in over a year, Sarah couldn't help thinking she might enjoy living here. She was not unused to residing in confinement, and this time she had a magnificent balcony on which to spend her time. The food was spectacular, and while the infrequent company of goblins left much to be desired, she figured she'd be seeing Him sometime soon. Or so she hoped.

The rest of the day passed without fervour, but far more quickly than the days Sarah was used to. After breakfast she had opened the trunk near her bed to find all her belongings folded neatly inside. Her clothes, books and even her treasured owl feather had been brought from the orphanage, and Sarah felt instantly at home when she discovered them. She had then lay on her bed reading Shakespeare's 'Much Ado about Nothing' for a good few hours until lunch arrived. Two different goblins - slightly less intelligible but more friendly than the breakfast goblins - delivered her food. Sarah grinned when she lifted the lid of her lunch to find what appeared to be a chicken risotto; apparently the castle cooks couldn't produce much more than chicken dishes. When she'd finished her lunch she wheeled the trolley to the door to make it easier for the kitchen goblins who would come to retrieve the trolley. She then hauled her trunk outside onto the balcony to use as a bench, and spent the afternoon gazing down at the picturesque scenery beneath her.

It really was a glorious property; Sarah found it difficult to grapple with the fact that she was still Overground. The castle seemed so reminiscent of 'The castle beyond the Goblin City' that she wondered whether the two weren't somehow related. Perhaps this castle was the other's parallel; it's counterpart. There were so many remarkable similarities, such as the thriving population of chickens that seemed to reside in the vicinity of the castle, and the great stone turrets Sarah could see above her. She swore she could see great iron spikes protruding from between the trees that bordered the property, much like the retractable ones that had threatened to impale her and her companions when they reached the gates to the Goblin City. Then there was the hedge maze she could see to her far left. That brought back memories. Even the colour of the castle's stone walls reminded her of the Underground castle; they were an earthy shade of yellow, much unlike the typical grey-stone castles Sarah had seen and read about in encyclopaedias.

It was nearing sunset. The sky had become a miraculous palette of blue, purple, pink and orange. Sarah was leaning against the balcony, her chin resting on her hands. She could spy a single star above her, straining for brilliance against the sun's fading rays. Sarah sighed, gazing into the distance and watching, entranced, as the sun sank below the line of trees bordering the horizon. A vast sea of shadow rose up the castle walls, eventually plunging Sarah and the entire castle into darkness. Sarah just sat, listening to crickets chirping in the distance while a subtle breeze rolled about her face and threatened to put her to sleep. She closed her eyes. The day's sunlight had warmed the castle's walls, and the balcony was still pleasantly heated. She could feel her consciousness drifting away from her as she lapsed peacefully into contentment. A sudden knocking shattered her repose. Her heart thumping, Sarah whipped round to squint through the darkness into her room. She could see little more than the outline of her bed, as she had no lights. Sarah took a step forward - and tumbled theatrically over her trunk, emitting a loud expletive on her trip to the floor. As she scrambled to stand, the door flew open. Sarah looked up, half-expecting to see His silhouette in the doorway, but instead was greeted with the sight of a female goblin carrying a candle, illuminating its grotesque facial features from below. The goblin shuffled into her room and held up the candle, peering at Sarah through the dim light.

'This is for you,' it rasped, gesturing towards the candle.

'Thankyou,' said Sarah awkwardly, reaching out to take it from the goblin who jumped backwards, keeping the candle from Sarah's reach. It glared at her.

'Not right now, I need it to find my way back to the dining hall,' the goblin insisted.

Sarah sighed. Apparently this goblin had a few too many screws loose.

'But if you take the candle back with you, it's hardly mine, is it?' Sarah articulated, as though she were speaking to an infant. 'How can I keep it if it's with you in the dining hall?'

'Don't be stupid,' squawked the goblin, 'It won't be with me. It'll be with you. You're coming with me.'

Sarah's eyes widened.

'To the dining hall?'

'Yes, to the dining hall,' said the goblin, agitated. 'You're coming with me to the dining hall, and I need the candle to see where we're going. I'll leave the candle with you when I bring you back later. And you might want to put on something nice,' added the goblin, eyeing her nightdress.

'What for?' asked Sarah.

'Are you really that much of a pudding-head? For dining, of course!' cried the goblin. 'You can't dine with the King dressed like that. Let's find you something decent,' decided the goblin. 'Here, hold your precious candle,' it said, thrusting the candle into Sarah's hands. 'Hold it steady,' the goblin ordered as it shuffled over to the foot of Sarah's bed.

'Where's your trunk?' it demanded.

'What? Oh, outside,' said Sarah absently, her mind registering what the goblin woman had just told her. The thought of having dinner with Him messed with her emotions. On one hand, she was pleased she would finally be able to talk with him about what was going on, but on the other hand, she found herself a little nervous. His obligation to her was no longer associated with the Labyrinth, but with her well-being. Would he be the same man he had been the last time they spoke?

The goblin had heaved the trunk inside and was rummaging through it, tossing dismissed items of clothing over its shoulders. Every now and again it'd come across a potential item and hold it up to the light, before grunting and flinging it onto the growing pile of discarded clothing. The goblin was becoming increasingly more desperate, and soon cried 'Don't you own a dress, girl? A young woman like you should live in dresses, none of this trouser-nonsense.'

Sarah hesitated. 'There is one dress,' she admitted, 'but I don't think -'

'Perfect!' the goblin proclaimed, having found Sarah's only dress and examined it from all angles. The goblin threw the garment at Sarah, almost knocking the candle from her hand. 'Put it on dear, no time to lose,' declared the goblin, hurrying to gather up Sarah's clothing and return it to the trunk. Sarah eyed the dress warily. It had been her mother's. Her real mother's. She doubted tonight was the right occasion for the dress but decided it would serve the purpose better than her current attire. After returning Sarah's clothing to the trunk, the goblin woman took the candle from Sarah and held it behind the dressing screen while she changed. Sarah undressed hurriedly, and climbed into the outfit. It was a bit tight. When she emerged from behind the screen, the goblin woman examined her in the candlelight. 'Take out your hair,' she proposed. Sarah tugged the elastic from her dark hair and let it fall about her shoulders. 'Much better,' nodded the goblin. 'The King will approve.' Sarah hoped so.

'Now, shoes,' said the goblin. 'And we must hurry, you can't be late.' Sarah bit her lip. She only had two pairs of shoes and tan-coloured lace-ups were hardly suitable to couple with the dress. She reached into the trunk reluctantly and tugged out her heels. She couldn't remember the last time she'd worn them, and was concerned that they were more suitable for a dinner date than a meeting between a new foster-father and daughter. The goblin flapped impatiently, 'Yes, yes, now put them on, we mustn't be late.' Sarah stepped inside her stilettos and turned to the goblin woman.

'I'm ready, lead the way.'

The goblin ushered Sarah out of the room and into a pitch-black stone hallway. Sarah stood awkwardly while her guide struggled to juggle a set of keys and the candle. Sarah offered to take the candle but received an indignant grunt in response. She smoothed the creases of her dress as the goblin managed at last to lock the door. 'Right,' it muttered, 'this way,' before shuffling quickly down the corridor. Sarah followed, her heels tapping loudly on the stone floor as she hurried to keep up with the goblin woman.

She tried to memorise the route. Straight down the corridor to the end, down the stairway to the floor below, straight down an identical corridor, second right, straight to the junction at the end, take a left and continue straight on until you come across another stairway, down two floors - and then she lost track. They walked briskly through the darkness with the aid of a single candle for what seemed like an age, before turning left into a corridor with a light at the end.

The goblin woman turned to Sarah. 'That's where you need to be,' she said, gesturing towards the light at the end of the hallway. 'I'm needed in the kitchens, so I'll keep the candle and escort you back to your room after dinner.' Sarah nodded, intending the thank the goblin but finding herself unable to speak. 'Don't be nervous dear,' insisted the goblin, sensing her worry. 'You look lovely. Now off you go.' And with that the gruff goblin woman waved vaguely before turning on her heel and heading off into the darkness, taking the candle with her. Sarah watched, motionless, as the light disappeared around a corner and faded completely. Then she turned to walk down the hallway to the light at the other end.

Sarah's heart was pounding unnecessarily quickly. She couldn't understand why she was feeling so restive about seeing Him. This was her opportunity to get the answers she needed about why he'd adopted her. She couldn't let nerves get in the way. As Sarah approached the light, she could see that it was coming from behind a set of double-doors which had been left slightly ajar. Her heels echoed ominously through the corridor as she strained to hear noises coming from the room on the other side of those doors. There were none. Pulse racing, she reached the doors and reminded herself to breathe before pushing them open.

It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the light. When her vision cleared, she gasped. The dining hall was magnificent. It was a vast, long room with a high, arched ceiling. The space was lit by three enormous glass chandeliers, and the walls were covered in portraits of men and ladies who appeared to be monarchs, judging by their majestic attire. At the far end of the hall was an immense window at least two floors high, adorned with crimson velvet curtains of magisterial proportions. Sarah decided it was more of a glass wall than a window, as it had no frame. And on the other side of the grand glass wall was a stone balcony not unlike her own, but far larger and sporting a resplendent fountain which spouted an array of streams of water at varying heights and angles.

Returning her attentions to the castle's interior, Sarah's gaze swept the length of the long dining table that occupied the hall. She was quite nearly directly behind a throne-like chair that was situated at one head of the table. She could see an identical chair at the other end.

It was occupied.

Sarah's breath caught in her throat as she realised he had been watching her, motionless. He was leaning back comfortably in his chair, his elbows on its arms and his hands together in a sort of steeple. She was nowhere near close enough to determine his expression or attire, but figured there must be a reason he had not yet spoken.

Sarah suddenly became aware of herself. She was still standing in the doorway, rooted to the spot and absolutely petrified of moving. She hoped he couldn't see her trembling. She cleared her throat nervously, and was alarmed when she realised it was deathly quiet.

He hadn't moved. He mustn't have thought it necessary to address her or acknowledge her presence. This was ridiculous. She couldn't stand here waiting for him to speak, or even move. It was time to do something. Sarah somehow gathered the nerve to swallow, breathe, and make her way to the chair nearest to her, directly opposite the man she was beginning to think was actually a sculpture.

She pulled the chair back, slid herself between the seat and the table, and sat, before tugging the chair towards the table beneath her. She folded her hands in her lap and summoned the courage to look up at him. All was silent. Neither of them moved. Sarah wiped her palms on her dress under the table; they were sweating.

This was absurd. She ought to say something. Start a conversation. Perhaps he was waiting for her to do something.

She coughed.

Nothing.

Sarah had just about had enough and was about to demand he say something, when he reached out and slid his goblet closer towards him. At that moment, a small goblin raced out of a small door in the wall holding a wine bottle as large as itself. It scurried over to where He was sitting, and held up the bottle. He plucked it from the goblin's grasp and poured himself a goblet-full. He then handed back the bottle, leaning down to mutter something to the goblin. He then straightened, and leaned back in his chair.

The goblin scampered down the hall to Sarah, struggling to keep the wine bottle upright. When it reached her side, it held up the bottle and squeaked, 'Red, miss?' Sarah mumbled 'Please,' before lifting the bottle from the little goblin's arms and pouring herself more than enough. She then handed back the bottle as He had done and watched the goblin attempt a bow before scampering back through the small door. It slammed shut loudly, echoing through the hall.

Sarah looked back across the table. She watched as He grasped his goblet and brought it slowly to his lips, his eyes on her. She swallowed nervously. He took a sip, savoured the taste and swallowed before pausing, then draining the goblet in one attempt. He placed the goblet back on the table and resumed his stillness.

Sarah frowned. Two can play at this game. She picked up her own goblet, which she had filled to the brim, and brought it to her mouth, keeping eye contact with Him as he had done. Then she closed her eyes and drank the entire contents of her goblet in one breath, slamming the goblet down on the table harder than she'd intended. She let out a satisfied sigh before slouching back in her chair in a far less elegant manner than he had.

'Impressive.'

Sarah couldn't believe her ears.

'So you do speak?'

He smirked.

'Hungry?'

'Famished.'

He clapped twice, and the hall was alive. Three tiny doors, about waist-height, opened on either side of the hall. A horde of goblins flooded inside, each carrying a plate of food. Their shrill voices filled the hall as they argued over what went where. The goblins took turns laying their platters on the table before heading back through the doors they entered through. When the last plate had been laid, the remaining goblin, the largest one, retrieved an acoustic gramophone from behind one of the doors. The goblin carefully adjusted the needle, and the hall was soon filled with a strange but somewhat soothing arrangement of melodies. The goblin then bowed before leaving them.

The mystical music seemed to numb the previous tension Sarah had been feeling. She grabbed the nearest plate and began piling her own with the vast array of foods on offer. He did the same. It seemed her earlier assumption was correct; the majority of the dishes were chicken. Roast chicken, roast vegetables, marinated chicken limbs, garlic bread, chicken stew, caesar salad and ravioli were just some of the foods Sarah could see. Her plate was soon filled with samples of each of the dishes within reach, and she began to make her way through her dinner.

This isn't so bad, she thought to herself. She reached for a nearby wine bottle and poured herself another goblet, drinking from it as an excuse to peer over its rim at the man sitting at the opposite end of the table. He appeared to be making his steady way through his meal, but she couldn't quite see where he was looking. Sarah placed her goblet on the table and turned her attentions to her food. She was munching her way through a potato when a movement to her left caught her attention. She looked up to see Him, now sitting adjacent to her. That was unexpected.

'We can hardly have a conversation when there's thirty feet of dining table between us,' he said, grinning. 'And I expect there are a few things you wish to ask of me.'

Sarah was slightly astonished by his courtly deportment, and was momentarily speechless. While he was not exactly within arm's reach, being in such close proximity to him was proving rather unnerving. She couldn't look him in face, let alone speak to him. She decided his collarbone would be easier. He was wearing a midnight-blue poet's shirt with a collar that extended to the centre of his chest, exposing the muscular lineage of his flawless torso. Sarah blinked, and decided that looking at her plate would be safest.

'It seems the words have escaped you,' he observed, apparently amused. She ground her teeth together in an attempt to summon some self-control before looking up at him and smiling. 'I'm fine,' she lied, before taking another swig from her goblet, averting her gaze to anywhere but his eyes.

'Perhaps I should do the talking, and you can interrupt when you see fit,' he suggested. She wasn't looking, but she could hear the smile in his voice. 'There's really no need, I'm perfectly capable of speaking for myself,' Sarah uttered indignantly.

He leaned back in his seat with a smirk. 'Well by all means, ask away,' he prompted, watching her intently. There was no reply. Sarah had managed to tilt her knife in such a way that she could see his reflection in it, and was captivated watching him watching her. His face was exactly as she remembered, and still sported the familiar arrogant smirk. He was eyeing her with his head to one side, much like a bird eyes it's worm before capturing and swallowing it.

'What kind of music is this?' asked Sarah suddenly, having gathered the courage to put down her knife and return his gaze. He seemed surprised by her question and took a moment to reply. 'It's classical Fae music,' he said. 'A combination of harp and harpsichord melodies. Do you like it?'

'It's - different,' Sarah forced out as she pushed her fork in a piece of chicken. 'It sounds very complex.'

'A respectable composition takes several years to perfect, so yes, you could call it complex.'

Sarah almost choked on her chicken. 'Years? Why would anyone want to spend that long on one piece of music?'

He was amused. 'It might be because we Fae have so much time on our hands. Composing one piece of music can potentially keep us occupied for decades, let alone a few years.'

A thought occurred to her so suddenly that she could help but ask 'How old are you?'

He grinned, baring his pronounced canines. Sarah looked down at her plate hurriedly to avoid looking at that mouth.

'Seven hundred and thirty-four.'

Sarah's broccoli fell off her fork. She looked up to see his grin had broadened.

'Surprised? I've been told I look rather good for my age.'

Her response slipped out before she'd thought it through.

'I wouldn't know, I have no basis for comparison.'

He smirked. 'I see you learned something the last time we were acquainted.'

Sarah was about to retort that remark when he clapped again; the earlier horde of goblins returned to clear the plates. She tried to protest when one of the goblins stole her plate from her (she hadn't finished her ravioli) but was abruptly silenced by the arrival of dessert. The dining table was soon a collage of pastels, completely covered in bowls containing ice-creams, pastries, cakes, puddings, fruits, jellies and creams. Sarah didn't know where to begin. As soon as the last goblin had departed, Sarah grabbed the nearest bowl and began to spoon copious amounts of ice-cream into her own. He simply watched, blatantly amused.

'Did they not feed you, back at the orphanage?'

'Not like this,' Sarah confessed as she reached for a pink iced donut. He smiled, and began to compile his own dessert from a platter of what appeared to be mini-meringues. Sarah stopped eating momentarily to eye the platter he was holding. He followed her gaze and tried to hide a smile as he offered her the platter. She plucked two white meringues from the tray and set them on her plate before thanking him politely. 'My pleasure,' he assured her with a grin.

Sarah swallowed a spoonful of vanilla bean ice-cream before asking, 'Do you eat like this every night?'

'The selection is not usually as vast as this, but yes, I have my goblins serve my dinner in here every night.'

'Do you entertain often?'

'Infrequently. I try to hold a ball at least once every season but lately I've been unable to find the time.'

Sarah took a sip of her dessert wine as his words sunk in. 'A ball?'

'Yes. Most of the time they're in here. I've held the Summer Ball in the gardens a few times however, weather permitting.'

'Who comes?'

He swallowed his mouthful of fairycake and waved his hand vaguely towards the walls, gesturing towards the many portraits.

'These are the lords and ladies of surrounding kingdoms. Most of them attend my events consistently, while others make a point of ignoring their invitation.' His eyes lingered on a particular spot on the wall - Sarah followed his gaze to a portrait of a man who bore a striking resemblance to the King himself. The only significant differences were the man's hair, which was jet-black in contrast to the King's platinum, and his eyes, which were a deep onyx, much unlike the King's mesmerising mismatched ones.

Sarah shifted in her seat. Apparently the two men shared an unpleasant history, judging by the King's sudden change in demeanour. He was presently focused on trying to spear a strawberry with his fork, but to no avail; it continued to slide off the end. His agitation was escalating, and Sarah worried she might end up bearing the brunt of his hostility towards the elusive strawberry. Why didn't he just use his fingers? Sarah wouldn't think any less of his table manners. The was only one thing for it. She reached across the table and selected her own strawberry from the fruit platter with her fingers.

He watched as she brought the fruit to her mouth and bit into it, capturing its juices with her lips. Sarah swallowed the fruit and placed its stalk on the side of her plate, before wiping her fingers on her serviette. She then smiled amiably at Him, fully aware that he had watched her every move. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, placing his fork beside his plate. He then mimicked Sarah's consumption of her strawberry with his damned non-compliant one, right down to the wiping of his gloved hands on his serviette. Sarah watched him as she downed the rest of her dessert wine, secretly pleased that she'd managed to take his mind off his aparent look-alike, but silently intrigued by the thought of removing those leather gloves. She found herself wondering what his hands might feel like against - no. She mentally slapped herself for thinking such thoughts. He was considered, legally, her parent now after all. Which reminded her -

'Why did you adopt me?' Sarah inquired suddenly.

She must have caught him by surprise, as he hesitated before replying. Despite the pause, however, his response came so fluently it sounded rehearsed.

'I felt sorry for you. After learning what had happened to your parents I decided that you'd be far better off coming to live with me than rotting away in that orphanage until you come of age.' He kept eye contact while he drained his goblet. Sarah was taken aback by his seemingly genuine and perfectly credible justification for adopting her. He had felt sorry for her. It was so simple, and yet it made so much sense. Just to be certain he had no ulterior motives, she decided to question him a little further.

'So - that's it, you felt sorry for me? You're not - angry at me for winning Toby back?'

'Not at all,' he insisted, expressionless. 'You chose to dismiss your dreams in order to save your brother, an admirable and selfless decision indeed. Who am I to bear a grudge?'

Sarah was convinced. He was entirely right, what good could possibly have come from harbouring ill feelings towards her? She had done what she had to; she had chosen to save Toby over accepting her dreams. There hadn't really been a decision to make, as far as she was concerned. Losing her baby brother to a mystical Goblin King wasn't an option - how could she ever have faced her parents again, knowing what she'd done? And now, to Sarah's surprise, He was assuring her that her actions had been 'admirable and selfless'. At last, her mind was at ease knowing that He understood and respected her for the choice she had made.

He clapped suddenly and the goblins returned. Sarah quickly grabbed her mini-meringues just as her plate was whisked away. The table was soon cleared and the goblins began to file out of the hall, just as one of the smaller goblins dropped the plate it had been holding. The porcelain shattered, and the sounds of both hysterical laughter and disgruntled groaning filled the hall. Some of the goblins turned to gauge the King's reaction - he merely sighed, exasperated. 'I promised them ale on the condition that they not break anything tonight,' he told Sarah, before standing and addressing the goblins. 'Thanks to one among you, there will be no ale for a week -' The goblins moaned and glared at the little clumsy one - '-unless you can clear the mess and leave the hall in twenty seconds,' He declared. 'Go.'

He calmly sat back down amidst the uproar of goblins falling over one another in an attempt to clear the remains of the broken plate. Mayhem broke out when a few of the goblins chose to harass the one that had dropped the plate; the little goblin retaliated by flinging itself at one of its attackers, who fell backwards and caused a domino effect, knocking over several other goblins who dropped their own plates as a result. It was painful to watch. The noise level escalated as insults were hurled and many more plates were shattered. Sarah even witnessed a goblin smashing a plate over the head of another goblin.

Suddenly, a plate flew across the table like a frisbee, narrowly missing the King's left ear. He gritted his teeth and exhaled slowly - Sarah could tell he was working to control his temper. She wondered whether he'd lose it and kick every single one of his goblins into the Bog of Eternal Stench as punishment for demolishing his crockery. But, to her utter astonishment, he calmly leaned towards her and recommended 'I think it's time we left.' She nodded in agreement, and together they rose from their chairs and headed for the double doors, heads low so to avoid being hit by plates and small goblins which were now being used as projectiles by the larger ones.

They reached the doors and He held one open for her. 'Ladies first,' he smiled cordially. Sarah grinned and left the dining hall with her head bowed to keep him from glimpsing her cheeks, which were blushing furiously; she had managed to cop an eyeful of his masculine assets in that near-indecent hosiery. Once inside the dark hallway, she turned to watch him step through the door after her. It was then that she realised just how tall he was; the top of his head almost grazed the door frame. He pulled the door closed, effectively stifling the racket coming from inside the dining hall, but at the expense of their light source; they were plunged into darkness.

For a moment they stood in what Sarah considered an uncomfortable silence, as she could not see Him nor tell what he might be doing. The vicinity was abruptly illuminated however by a candle He pulled from thin air. He grinned at her awed expression before asking 'Might I escort you to your room?' After a mere moment's hesitation, Sarah nodded, grinning, and they headed up the hallway with the help of the candle. Sarah found herself inwardly amused that hers weren't the only heels tapping ominously on the stone floor; His square-heeled boots were making a similar echo in the narrow corridor.

They wound their way through the labyrinth of passages without conversing, before reaching a stairway; he stepped aside to let her walk up the stairs ahead of him. Sarah pulled the hem of her dress down towards her knees before continuing on; she didn't want him seeing more of her than she intended to allow.

They walked for a good five minutes before arriving at Sarah's room. He tugged a key from the air and unlocked the door, before turning to Sarah. 'I must thank you for joining me for dinner, Sarah,' he said smoothly. 'I was thoroughly enjoying our evening before my incompetent minions spoiled it.' 'They didn't spoil it,' she insisted, preoccupied with the way he had articulated her name. 'I had a great time. Give my compliments to the chef,' she added shyly. 'I will,' he smiled through the candelight.

Sarah headed inside her room and turned to close the door. 'Oh, Sarah,' he said, remembering something. 'Take this.' He held out the candle. She reached out to take it, and hesitated. 'But how will you get back?' 'I have my ways,' he said with half a smirk. Sarah thought it best not to peruse the notion, so she took the candle. 'Goodnight, Sarah,' he said. She looked up at him. 'Goodnight, Daddy,' she replied, grinning. And with that, she closed her door, leaving him standing motionless in the dark. She did not see the strange expression that came over his features at that remark, nor the peculiar grin which followed.

But the last thing Sarah heard before she drifted to sleep that night was the chilling sound of cold, demonic laughter as it echoed through the castle.

* * *

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG.

I've turned over a new leaf and I've planned the entire story before writing it, so producing some literary gold won't be so difficult. The plot gets extremely juicy from here on in, so please review and subscribe to this story as you see fit.

I will write the next chapter ASAP and have it uploaded as soon as it's finished, I promise :)


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